


Carrot Cake

by lesbianophelia



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Everlark endgame, F/M, Toasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gale wants a toasting cake, and Katniss just wants to stop fighting. (Everlark endgame, I promise!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bohemianrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemianrider/gifts), [dracoisalooker76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoisalooker76/gifts).



> Endless, eternal, enthusiastic gratitude to Gentlemama for beta-ing, and to Bohemianrider and Dracoisalooker76 (and everyone else who liked/reblogged the unfinished drabble version of this when I posted it on Tumblr!) 
> 
> Also, as a note, I tried *really* hard to not be too rough on Gale. But this is a lot of headcanon about why I think Everthorne wouldn't work as a couple on a fundamental level. 
> 
> Okay, let me know what you think!

**_001:_** **  
**All they ever do is fight. Or, at least, it seems like all they do since they started dating is fight. And, oh, they are _good_ at it. It isn’t too much of a surprise, with how much time they’ve spent together. Gale knows exactly which of Katniss’sbuttons to push, and Katniss knows just what to bring up to get him angry as she is.    
  
They don’t even fight to win the argument. No, they fight to make sure that Katniss’ name sounds like a dirty word when Gale says it. They fight to make sure that the corners of her lips turn down when she has to say his name. In the end, it never matters how the fight started by the end, they’ve both dragged everything they can into it. She knows the warning signs, how she can tell if she’s in the lead. Gale’s jaw clenches, his shoulders square off a little bit more than usual. She’s pretty certain that he knows the same for her. The way her fists ball at her sides, how she bites at her lips and tugs at her hair.   
  
Katniss and Gale are much better at fighting then they are at being in a relationship.

 ** _002:  
_** He had been the one to want a relationship in the first place. She sort of saw that coming. He had started looking at her although, of course, she didn’t notice until her mother pointed it out. She didn’t want to believe her mother about it. She tried not to listen to anything her mother said. As if, after everything, Katniss was going to listen to her about _a boy._  
But once her mother said it, she couldn’t help but to notice. Gale looked at her every time he seemed to think she wasn’t going to see. His jaw clenched a little bit while they traded at the bakery. His crew in the mines would look at her as they walked by. And then, one day, after she had taken down a deer, rather than congratulate her like usual, he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her. Hard.  
  
They didn’t talk about it for ages afterwards. But then he did it again, and she didn’t hate it, so she kissed him back. He introduced her as his girlfriend after that.

 

 ** _003:  
_** She hates it, being called his girlfriend. It makes her feel like maybe she’s something less than she was before. She’s no longer _Katniss_. Suddenly, at work, she’s _Gale’s girlfriend_. To the Hawthorne family, she is _Gale’s girlfriend_. In the Hob, she is _Gale’s girlfriend_.  
  
Gale loves it, though. Or, at least, he did at first. The fights started coming not too long after the new title.  
It’s during one of these fights that he tries to change things. He runs his hands through his hair, groans low and long, and says, “Don’t you think it’s time we moved forward, Katniss?”  
  
She doesn’t. She knows better than to say that, though. Part of being good at fighting is to know when to hold your tongue. So she waits a long moment, tries to control herself, and then asks, her voice quiet, “What are you talking about, Gale?”  
  
A toasting. She’s right. He’s talking about a toasting. And somehow, even though she knows that everyone Gale went to school with is either married or expecting a baby in the next couple of months, she is completely blindsided by the question. And he doesn’t expect an answer right away – which is a good thing, because she doesn’t have one for him. Not a good one, at least. So she takes her time.  
  
 ** _004:_**  
  
They’re out in the woods on their day off when she gives him an answer. It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t pushed her at all.  
And Katniss can’t help but to think maybe this is the only ending for her. The only way things could turn out. She and Gale are practically cut from the same cloth. She knows she can be certain that he won’t get fed up with her giving her family some of the money she makes in the mines. Or with her going into the woods. And, besides, she’s not sure if she’d be willing to put up with anyone else for the rest of her life. That’s not even to mention the newlywed stipend. The extra food they’d get for the first year of their marriage.  
Even though, when she first agreed to date him, she reminded him of something she’s been telling him for years, and he said that he understood, that he just wanted to be with her whether or not she wanted to get married. She believed him. Gale might have even believed it, himself, for those few months. But that’s not important now.  
  
“Okay,” she says, and he looks up at her, the snare in his hands momentarily forgotten.  
  
“What?” he asks.  
  
“I said okay,” she says. “I mean, about the whole toasting thing. Okay. I’ll do it.”  
  
The words don’t come out right, but Gale doesn’t mind. In fact, he crosses the space between them and scoops her up into his arms, laughing and kissing the side of her head and saying that he loves her and she’s wondering if maybe that should have come before he asked her to make toast with him but he keeps on going. He says that he’s been so worried that she was finished with him and that she won’t regret it, which strikes her as sort of funny.  
  
There’s no outcome for her other than this one, and she knows it. Some particularly good days, she can even pretend that she’s okay with it.  
  
  
 ** _005:  
_** It takes a while for the fights to start. She thinks she’s a big part of why they do, because Gale is much more eager than she is to go ahead and choose a date. It takes a long time after she says yes for either of them to bring a toasting up, but Gale is the one to break the ice, suggesting a date that she shoots down before he’s even really finished.  
  
“Spring? No, I don’t think that’s going to work. You know how busy the woods get that time of year. We won’t have time to plan.”  
  
He agrees, but she can see that he’s disappointed. She doesn’t blame him, exactly, but she doesn’t blame herself either. She needs time. When his mother insists that Katniss try on her old worn dress, she knows that he told her. She’s not sure why that irritates her the way that it does, but she tries the dress on without complaint and smiles for Hazelle, because Gale’s mother looks close to tears and she’s not sure how to respond to that.  
But the dress looks hideous on her. When she confronts Gale about telling people, she makes sure that she brings that fact up. Heasks her why she’s ashamed of him, of this, and she doesn’t have an answer for him. Her mother claims that it’s perfectly normal when Hazelle tells her about Katniss’s hesitance, and it leads to a completely uncomfortable sit-down conversation about marriage and how _happy_ everyone is that the two families will finally be coming together.  
  
The fifth time she tells him no, it turns into a fight. It almost feels _right_ , after the couple of months of relative peace they’ve had, to snap at him again. By playground rules, Gale is most definitely the one who starts it, but Katniss knows that she’s being a little bit unreasonable.  
  
Long engagements are not common in District Twelve.  
  
“Do you even want to do this with me, Katniss?” he finally asks. She tells him that she does, obviously she does, if she said yes, and he sighs heavily, saying that it’s just _hard_ when she can’t commit to anything.  
  
If she’s being completely honest, Katniss isn’t sure how much of a difference a piece of bread could make.  
  
 ** _006:_**  
A few days later, when everything has blown over, Gale mentions that he’s been saving up for, of all things,a _toasting cake_. Somehow – Katniss isn’t sure if she’d be able to do it again if she tried – she manages to avoid a fight, hold her tongue, and agree that sure, maybe she can stop by the bakery and see how far something like that would put them back. So, after she’s gotten herself all cleaned up from her shift at the mines, she heads for Town.  
  
Peeta Mellark is wiping down the counter when she comes in, but he straightens up when the bell above the door alerts him to her presence. He sets the rag aside. “Katniss! Hey! What can I do for you?”  
  
She doesn’t answer. Not at first, anyway. She’s looking around the storefront, wondering if she’s ever even been inside this part of the bakery before. She usually comes to the back door. Trades with Peeta the way she traded with his father, the way she trades with the other business owners. “I need a cake,” she says, stepping a little closer to the table. “Were you closing up? I could come back.”  
  
“Oh, no,” he says, glancing over at the rag. “Just trying to busy myself. No one ever tells you this, of course, but the last hour or two before closing up are among the most boring of your life.”  
  
She manages a weak smile at his joke.  
  
“Okay, so this cake you need,” Peeta says. “Are we talking immediate, or are you placing an order?”  
  
“An order,” she answers.  
  
“Okay, good. What type of cake do you need? A birthday cake or . . .?”  
  
“Toasting,” she answers, and convinces herself that she’s imagining the way his smile falls. It’s back in a moment, and he holds up one finger before kneeling down behind the counter to produce a book.  
  
“You’re in luck, actually,” he says, thumbing through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “Toasting cakes just happen to be my specialty. Or my favorite. Whichever you prefer,” he flashes a smile. “What sort? Vanilla, chocolate? Something else?”  
  
 “I don’t know,” she says. She’s a little tempted to just tell him to make whatever he thinks would work best, but something tells her that’s not the right thing to do, so she forces herself to smile. Pretends thatshe’s half as excited about this as Gale is. “What’s your favorite?”  
  
“That’s a hard one,” Peeta says, and he acts like he’s actually thinking about it for a moment. He seems to get excited, leaning forward on his elbows. “How about this? You pick a day, come back with your fiancé, and I’ll make three of our most common cakes for you to taste.”  
  
“How much?” she asks.  
  
Peeta chews his bottom lip for a moment, considering. “Tell you want, you promise you’ll buy your cake from me, and we’ll call it even.”  
  
That can’t possibly be right. “I’m going to bring extra squirrels,” she decides. “Can we do it Sunday night, maybe? Around seven?”  
  
“Of course,” Peeta says. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”  
  
She shakes her head. “No. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”  
  
“See you then,” Peeta agrees, smiling.  
  
 ** _007:  
  
_** Gale is, surprisingly, determined not to go with her. She doesn’t understand it, exactly, with how adamant he had been that this is something they need. But he refuses the idea as soon as she brings it up, and she wonders if maybe he’s joking, trying to give her a taste of her own medicine. But he’s not.  
  
“So, you really can’t do it by yourself?” he asks when she gapes at him. “I just don’t understand why it would take two of us.”  
  
“Then _you_ go,” she says, crossing her arms. “Or do I need to remind you that you’re the one that wanted this stupid cake, and not me?”  
  
Now it’s his turn. “I’m starting to think _I’m_ the only one that wants this wedding, Katniss.”  
  
Maybe he is. She doesn’t say that, though. Part of being good at fighting is knowing which lines not to cross. “I said yes, didn’t I?” she asks instead. “But sure, you can think that. Clearly you don’t care what I say.”  
  
He tries to stop her when she brushes past him, but she jerks her arm out of his grasp.  
  
“Don’t, Gale,” she warns.  
  
He doesn’t follow her. She doesn’t spare a glance over her shoulder. He’s probably watching her from the doorway. He’s been known to do that after particularly volatile fights, and she’s made the mistake of looking more than a few times. Not tonight, though. She’s far too angry tonight.  
  
  
 She avoids him at work on Saturday. It isn’t all that hard, since they’re not on the same crew, but she makes sure she walks a little bit faster when she heads home, because the last thing she wants to do is to walk with him.  
  
He calls out to her when she rounds the corner that leads to her street, but she doesn’t respond.  
  
 ** _008:_**  
  
She spends her time on Sunday in the woods, near her father’s cabin by the lake, where she’s positive that Gale won’t find her. She takes down every squirrel she can see.

She hadn’t been sure if trading at the bakery would stop after Mr. Mellark passed away and Mrs. Mellark moved to the house she and her now-late husband had been assigned when they were married. Peeta had clearly acquired the taste for squirrels from his father, though, because he picked up right where the baker left off, actually stopping her and Gale when he saw them around Town and asking if they had anything for him.  
  
He’s been about as good of a trader as his father. She could always count on him to be willing to trade a few rolls for a good squirrel or two.   
  
When she gets home, Prim informs her that Gale had been looking for her, but she doesn’t even try to seek him out. Instead, she cleans up her kills and takes a bath, getting cleaned up and heading for Town a little earlier than she’s maybe supposed to and knocks on the back door at the end of her trade route.  
  
  
Peeta laughs when he opens it. “You could’ve come in through the front. You _are_ a customer, you know.”  
  
“Brought some squirrels,” she says, holding the bag up. “You know, in exchange for what you’re doing today.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Peeta asks. “I’d trade you for them like normal.”  
  
It’s a tempting offer, but her pride gets the best of her and she insists. She trades with him often enough, anyway, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of squirrels in her woods.   
  
Other than Peeta, the kitchen is empty. She feels a strange surge of pity for him. What a lonely life he must live. Both of his brothers are, apparently, apprenticing for other shops in the Square. It must pay, dating the owner’s kid.   
Word around the District – which has died down considerably in the last several months – is that once his father realized that both of Peeta’s brothers would be able to make a living at those shops, he left the shop to Peeta in his will. Something that Katniss is sure his mother hates.  
  
“Okay, well, I was gonna set you up in front. Unless your fiancé is planning on meeting you back here?”  
  
She shakes her head, maybe a little too forceful. “No. He’s not coming.”  
  
“Oh no,” Peeta says. “Is everything all right?”  
  
She doesn’t think she likes it, exactly, the baker trying to worm his way into her business. He’s waiting for an answer, though, so she shrugs. “He’s just not coming.”  
  
“Well, I suppose we can go ahead and get started, then. Shall we?” Peeta asks. She follows him into the storefront, leaving her bag in the back, and watches as he flips the sign on the door to _closed_ and feels a little bit bad for making him finish up early.  
  
“Okay!” he says, clearly not upset about closing the bakery. “I’ll go get the first slice. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”  
  
She sits down at the table with the cloth over it, because it’s clearly the one he intended for her. He comes out a moment later with a slice of white cake for her.  
  
“This is, without a doubt, the most popular one for toastings. I mean, it’s actually kind of hard to go wrong with it. Which, you know, is a good thing but also – I’ve found, at least – it can be a little boring. You know? It’s not everyone’s favorite, but it’s a safe bet.”  
  
She nods.  
  
He bounces on his heels a little, probably anxious for her to take the first bite. She can’t help but to focus on the empty seat across from her. She really should have brought her sister. Why didn’t she think of that until just now?  
  
“Aren’t you gonna have any?” she asks, and he looks confused at the suggestion.  
  
“I wasn’t planning on it. I mean, it’s your tasting.”  
  
“Have some,” she says, and it comes out almost like a demand. She should have brought her sister. “I mean, I need a second opinion anyway.”  
  
“I may be a little biased,” he warns, grinning, but he heads back into the kitchen and comes out with a – considerably smaller – slice for himself. “Have you made any plans for the wedding yet?” he asks when he sits down.  
  
She shakes her head. “No, nothing definite yet. I think I’m supposed to wear his mother’s old dress.”  
  
“Yeah?” he asks.  
  
“It looks hideous on me.”  
  
Peeta sort of laughs. “I doubt that. You’re making me a little bit nervous though,” he says, nodding towards the cake. “I don’t mean to be pushy or anything, but . . .”  
  
She gives him a conspiratorial smile before she takes a bite, as if maybe that’s what she meant to do. The cake is good. Light and fluffy but with much more flavor than the dense cakes her mother used to attempt with the tessera rations for birthdays and New Years. It’s slightly too sweet, though, so she stops after a couple of bites.  
  
“It’s good! But I probably ought to pace myself,” she says, and Peeta smiles at her, finishing off his piece and then gathering their plates and bringing them to the back. She’s not entirely sure how many more pieces he expects her to eat.  
  
“Okay,” Peeta says, speaking as soon as he’s come through the swinging doors.  “So, last night you asked me what my favorite is. Do you remember?”  
  
She nods.  
  
“Well, it took a lot of thought, but the carrot cake is probably my favorite. Though, it might be because it was the first one I remember helping my dad with. I measured stuff for him.”   
  
The cake isn’t as sweet as she expects it to be, but it more than makes up for that in texture and flavor.  
  
“What do you think?” he asks.  
  
She can’t help but to close her eyes when she takes a second bite. “I like this a lot. Are there really carrots in it?”  
  
She expects him to laugh at her, but he doesn’t.  
  
“There are, actually,” he says. “They’re grated pretty finely in the batter.”   
  
“I can’t taste them.”  
   
“That’s because of all the spices,” he says. “My father used to put a big frosting carrot on the ones he made. Now, there’s plenty we can do with this kind, if that’s the one you choose. Typically, I like to add raisins and nuts, but since I wasn’t sure what you’d like, I figured this was the best way to go.”  
  
Her fork stills. “What?”   
  
“I usually add raisins and nuts,” he repeats, sounding confused. “I’ve heard of people adding coconut, but I’ve personally never tried it.”   
  
Suddenly, it’s like she’s eleven years old again. Freezing in the rain behind this very kitchen. She shakes her head, trying to push the thoughts away, but being around Peeta isn’t particularly helping with that. Does he know what she’s thinking? Does he ever think of that night, too? Probably not half as much as she does, if at all.  
  
It should be so easy to just _thank_ him and get it over with, but before she manages to form the words, Peeta is gathering their plates up.  
  
“It’s not the most traditional for a toasting cake but – and correct me if I’m wrong here, please – I hardly thought you would mind.”  
  
She nods, still a little distracted. She still hasn’t said anything when he goes back to the kitchen, and she’s particularly upset with herself for it.  
  
  
“Okay, so this one is not quite as common for toastings, either, but just pretty popular in general,” he says, setting a dark slice down in front of her. This one is chocolate, and far too rich for her. She barely gets two bites down before she pushes it away. “Not your favorite?”  
  
“No, it’s good,” she assures him, and he laughs.  
  
“You know you don’t have to say that about all of these, right?” he asks.  
  
“It is good,” she insists. “Just rich. Not bad.”  
  
“I understand what you mean,” Peeta says. “Common complaint, I mean. You learn not to take them personally.”  
  
They sort of watch each other for a moment.  
  
“The carrot cake, right?” Peeta asks. “Is that the one you want to order? Just so I don’t forget.”  
  
She’s about to nod when she thinks of Gale. “Um, no, I think I’ll go with the white one.”  
  
He looks confused for a moment but nods anyway. “Okay, yeah, white cake. Katniss flowers on it?”  
  
“Whatever’s the cheapest,” she says. “And just enough to be pretty.”  
  
“Okay,” Peeta says. “Do you two have a date set?”  
  
“Not yet,” she says. “How early do you need to be paid?”  
  
“Oh, well, I can just collect on delivery. Or we could trade for it. Whichever works for you.”  
  
Trading would work much better for her, but she knows how important it is to Gale, so she’s sure that he’ll want to use the money he’s been saving. “No, I’ll pay.”  
  
“Let me know when you have a date set, okay?” he asks. “I don’t need too much notice, but preferably a few days.”  
  
She nods, standing up. He follows suit.  
  
“See you around?” Peeta asks, and she nods.  
  
“Yeah, um, see you around.”  
  
 ** _009:_**  
  
The biggest fight of all comes a few days later. She’s not sure what sets them off, exactly, but after a while, it’s just fire feeding fire. He thinks that their families should be at the ceremony, and she thinks that if she’s going to toast she wants it to be private. Gale is offended by the word _if_ and while, okay, maybe she can understand that, she thinks that he needs to understand what she told him years ago about not wanting to be married.  
  
“You should never have said yes,” Gale says after a long moment of silence, and she feels dangerously close to crying.  
  
“I know,” she admits, and then the strangest thing happens. Gale is _hugging_ her. And not like he has this whole time they’ve been a couple. This is different. Like he genuinely wants her to feel better. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“But what was your plan, exactly?” Gale asks, holding her out at arm’s length to look at her. She feels very small. “Just pretend like you were okay with this until one of us died? Or were you going to find a way out?”  
  
“It’s not . . . Gale, I just,” she can’t finish that sentence. Maybe there isn’t a good way to end it. She’s not even able to tell him that she doesn’t think they should go through with the toasting. Doesn’t get more than a couple of words out. Gale understands, though. Kisses her on the forehead and says that okay, maybe he saw it coming.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she manages.  
  
“I know,” Gale says.  
  
It’s over after that. She asks if he’s going to go hunting on Sunday, and he looks at her like maybe she doesn’t understand how this is supposed to work.  
  
“Right,” she says. “Okay, well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”

**_End part one._ **


	2. Chapter 2

010:  
She wasn’t stupid enough to think that Gale would stop using the woods. She just didn’t think it would hurt so much when she saw him. Because he’s clearly still present in her life, even  if she just sees his back in the distance, or sees his snares.  
  
And it’s a strange, nonspecific pain that she can’t help but to think she has no right to feel. Because she doesn’t miss her fiancé, and she doesn’t miss her boyfriend. She certainly doesn’t miss the man she would get into screaming matches with.  
  
She misses Gale. Her hunting partner. The man she could be quiet with.  
  
The silence, lately, has been deafening.  
  
011:   
He’s out in front of the bakery when she walks by it. He’s facing away from her, so she can’t be sure what he’s doing, but he’s balancing on his forearms and knees while he does it. She must wait there for too long, trying to figure him out, because he looks over his shoulder at her.  
  
He doesn’t seem to mind catching her spying, though.  
“Hey, Katniss!” he says, and he’s cheerful even though he looks like he would have every right to be grumpy. His hair is stuck to his forehead, his face is slightly flushed, but he still motions with his head like she should come closer. He’s gardening, she figures. There’s a pile of weeds not too far from him. Dandelions, mostly.  
  
“This is what you do on your day off?” she asks. It’s not supposed to be as accusatory as it is. But the fact is that Peeta closes the bakery for the whole day exactly once a month. This seems like a waste, spending it doing this.  
  
He laughs, maybe a little self conscious. “Rumor has it flowers grew here, once upon a time,” he explains. He reaches up to swipe at his bangs, but all that does is leave a smear of mud on his forehead. He seems to get an idea, because he rocks back until he’s sitting. “Are you here to talk shop? Do I need to look more professional?”  
  
She shakes her head. It’s been almost two months since she and Gale ended things, and she’s managed, somehow, to not tell Peeta that she won’t be needing the cake. There have been rumors about their breakup, but she’s not sure if Peeta has any stock in them.  
He should. At least, this time, he should. It’s true that she’s a heartless bitch that’s been leading Gale on. “Well . . . I mean, I guess maybe I am. I won’t be getting the cake anymore.”  
  
His forehead wrinkles in confusion. Or concern, maybe, but that doesn’t seem quite right. “Is this about price? Because we really haven’t discussed that, and I said we could trade.”  
  
She shakes her head. He glances up at her when he adds another dandelion to the pile, clearly waiting for an explanation.  
  
“I won’t need it,” she answers, and she must stress it just right, because she can actually see the moment he realizes what she’s talking about. He doesn’t look less distressed, just different.  
  
“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. He actually laughs when she shakes her head. “Yeah, I knew that one was a long shot. But you can change your mind, if you want. You know where to find me.”  
  
“So, I’m not going to charge you for the squirrels. Not until we’re even for the tasting.”  
  
A smile plays at the corners of his lips. “No, you’re not.”  
  
“Yes, I am,” she argues. “I promised I’d buy my cake from you and we called it even. That was the deal, and if I’m not going to, then . . .”  
  
It hits her that maybe she should have just gotten the cake anyway. Given it to her sister as a birthday gift. It would probably keep the rumors from starting up all over again.  
  
“Exactly,” he says. “And if you’re not toasting – if you’re not getting a toasting cake,” he amends, glancing up at her. “Then it would be wrong of me to charge you for it. We made a deal. I took a calculated risk.”  
  
She frowns.  
  
“You insisted on bringing me squirrels for it anyway, remember?” Peeta asks. “So it’s been more than even for a while, now. I’m serious. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
She wants to fight with him. To make sure that he knows that she thinks he’s being ridiculous, but maybe it’s just because it was Peeta. She thinks of his father. Wonders if she would argue with Mr. Mellark about something like this. If she would be clear about the way that she thought he should run his business.  
  
She wouldn’t. And Peeta was left in charge of the bakery. So . . . “Okay,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But I brought squirrels.”  
  
He looks amused. “Because you knew I wouldn’t have bread? Sneaky.”  
  
She shrugs. Peeta stands up and dusts his hands off on his pants, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. “I think I can put something together. The real question is this – are you willing to wait for it to bake, or would you rather just trade for cash?”  
  
If she gets cash, she knows she’ll only use it buy bread, and she’ll probably get a much better deal this way. “I can wait,” she announces. “I’ll do the rest of my route and then come back, if you don’t mind?”  
  
 “No, of course not,” Peeta says, smiling. “I’ll see you then.”  
  
012:  
He tells her that night, when she comes by in time to sit in the kitchen while the bread bakes, that she’s more than welcome to come by any time she wants.  
  
She doesn’t expect to take him up on the offer.  
  
013:  
There’s something easy about being around him. He’s always so pleasant, so optimistic in a way that she just can’t be. And he’s always hard at work at one thing or another when she comes by to trade.  
  
“So, how long have you been . . . not needing a cake?” he asks hesitantly one night. She’s disappointed. It had been easy to talk to Peeta. But things are bound to get hard if she has to talk about this. “I’m not trying to be nosy. It’s just, well, you know how rumors can be around here, and I haven’t really heard any about you two breaking up.”  
  
“Well, that’s better than the one about me being pregnant,” she decides, and his eyes sort of widen, as if he maybe hasn’t heard that one. “It was right after the tasting,” she offers. “That we decided we didn’t work.”  
  
“Oh,” Peeta says, looking like he’s trying to take this in. She regrets the decision to tell him to wait, but it’s too late to ask for cash now. Peeta laughs suddenly. “I’m not gonna shut down the bakery. Or give it to my brother or whatever the gossip is.”  
  
She’s heard that rumor. There have been a few along the same vein. “I don’t think – nobody would blame you. If you needed help, or whatever.”  
  
“What?” he asks.  
  
“Just, I don’t know why you don’t hire someone to help.”  
  
“Oh, well, I figured I could get free labor if I had a few kids, so I’m just waiting on that.” He looks serious for a long moment, but then he laughs. “No, it’s just that, well, the bakery is so important, you know? And it’s been in my family since the Dark Days. So I’m hesitant to bring other people in on that. You can’t trust just anyone, you know.”  
  
She nods. She hadn’t really thought of that.  
  
“Unless . . . do you know someone who might be interested if there was an opening?” he asks, and she shakes her head. He heads for the oven to check on the rolls, but she suspects it’s just because he wants to distract himself somehow. “And, you know, if you want to talk – like, really talk – the offer still stands.”  
  
She doesn’t expect to take him up on that offer, either.  
  
  
014:  
The worst is the day she’s approaching the back door of the bakery at the same time that Gale gets to the back door of the Mayor’s house. She’s out later than she normally is, so she’s on the Cartwright’s back porch. She’s not sure what she expects to accomplish by spying on them. She just doesn’t expect them to make small talk when Madge answers the door.  
Or for Madge to reach out and put her hand on his arm. Or for him to laugh at whatever it is she says. Or – worse – for her to reach up on her tiptoes and kiss him. Or – worst – for Gale to kiss her back. For the strawberries to dangle from his fingers, completely forgotten. She feels sort of sick.  
  
The Cartwrights don’t get their rabbits. Peeta almost doesn’t get his squirrels, but she decides at the last minute that she should make sure he gets them after all of his trouble. But that doesn’t mean she has to answer him when he asks if she’s okay. She just thrusts the bag out toward him.  
  
He takes it, but sighs. “What happened?” he asks before he reaches the counter. “Katniss, you’re kind of freaking me out.”  
  
He looks genuinely concerned. Like he can tell something is wrong. But is something wrong? Can she really blame either of them? She swallows hard. “I never wanted to toast.”  
  
It takes him a moment to realize what she’s talking about. “Oh. Okay.”  
  
“Gale did. But I was . . . I didn’t,” she finishes lamely.  
  
“Is this about him and Madge?” he asks, and she’s furious.  
  
“You knew? And you didn’t say anything?!” She can’t believe this. It’s not even like they’re really friends. But . . . shouldn’t he have told her? Given her some sort of a warning?  
  
His hand goes to his hair, like he’s distressed. Ashamed of himself, almost.  
  
“Um, well, I heard the rumors. I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s nothing. There’s one about me and Madge, and about me and Delly Cartwright, and about Delly and Gale, and about Delly and my brother . . . You learn not to put a lot of stock in them. I’m sure it’s nothing.”  
  
She laughs drily. “Pretty sure his tongue down her throat says differently.”  
  
“Katniss,” he says, eyes wide. “You had to see?” It’s like this is the worst thing he can think of. She picks at her cuticle. “I’m sorry. I should have said something. I just figured you knew about it and didn’t want to talk about it.”  
  
He’s right. She wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it. She doesn’t want to talk about it now, either. “I’ll survive. He deserves someone nice, anyway.”  
  
“Someone nice?” Peeta repeats, incredulous. “And what are you?”  
  
This makes her snort. “Peeta, I’m not nice.”  
  
He crosses his arms, as if the insinuation of her not being nice genuinely offends him. “You’re crazy about your little sister,” he points out.  “You’re nice to her.”  
  
“I have to. I love her. She’s my sister,” she argues, looking down at the tiled floor. She should leave. Needs to leave. How soon can she leave?  
  
“Katniss, look at me. I need you to hear this. I’m the youngest of three. You – the kind and loving older sibling – are a rare breed.”  
  
It’s quiet.  
  
“And you’re nice to me,” he adds, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Okay, maybe not all the time, but I always look forward to you coming. And I don’t know about all of this not wanting to toast with him business, but I do know for a fact that, no matter how hard you try to hide it, you are nice.”  
  
She doesn’t know how to respond to this. He comes over for her bag and even though she’s not ready to let go if it, she lets him have it. Her hands rest awkwardly in her lap, now, with nothing to do.  
  
“I told him I was never going to get married,” she adds weakly. “But he asked, and . . .”  
  
“Never?” Peeta asks.  
  
“I don’t want kids.”  
  
“Oh. Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t get married,” he says.  
  
“You sound like him.”  
  
“But it’s true,” Peeta insists, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t like being compared to Gale. “I mean, you don’t have to do either, obviously. But you can do one without the other.”  
  
“I think I should go,” she says, standing up. She doesn’t want to talk to Peeta about this, anyway. “My sister is going to wonder, and –”  
  
“I’m saying this at the risk of ruining this whole thing we have going here, but you deserve someone who’s gonna take more than five seconds to get over you,” he says, and he’s not looking at her while he speaks.  
  
The whole thing they have going? Suddenly, she feels panicked, because things are starting to make sense. Him offering her extra food, putting a chair out for her, wanting to visit with her . . .  Calling her nice and defending her against Gale’s imaginary slight by moving on . . . She had thought it was because he was being nice. But this makes more sense, she guesses. How could she not have seen it coming? “We had something going?” she asks.  
  
It takes him a moment to understand what she means, but she’s gone before he can explain himself, slipping out the back door and accidentally leaving one of the loaves behind. She doesn’t even notice until she gets home, and she regrets it, but not badly enough to go back to the bakery.  
  
  
  
At least, not until the next week, when money is tight and she can’t take down much other than squirrels. She sets her jaw and tries not to make eye contact when he opens the door, but he seems like he’s actually relieved.  
  
“You came back!” he says. “I was worried, you know. I thought –”  
  
“We aren’t dating,” she informs him, making sure that her tone brokers no argument. She won’t make the same mistake twice. When she glances up at him, he doesn’t look angry. Just concerned, and maybe a little bit amused.  
  
“Was I supposed to think we were?” he asks after he’s had a moment to think about this. That’s that, then. She tries not to read too far into it the next time he offers her a pastry or extra bread. He wants to be her friend.  
  
015:  
The next week, when he offers her the rejects basket that she’s turned down every week, she reminds herself that he’s just being kind, that he doesn’t want to put her in more debt to him, and she takes a pastry.  
  
The week after, when she’s had a particularly good day, she won’t let him give her a third loaf of bread in exchange for the extra squirrel. Because they’re friends. She can’t imagine what it would be like to have to run the bakery by herself. She tells him that, one day, and he laughs.  
  
“I can’t imagine being in the woods like you. Don’t you ever get scared?”  
  
She frowns. She doesn’t ever really think that there are people that buy everything the propaganda sells about the dangers of the woods. “It’s not scary. It’s nice. Quiet.”  
  
“I think that might drive me crazy,” he admits, smiling. “That’s something I miss about my brothers working here. It gets so quiet.”  
  
This makes her inexplicably sad. Probably because Peeta doesn’t ever complain, really, and when he does, he manages to somehow sound honest and smile at the same time. Like he gets so lonely around here that he’s just happy to have someone to talk to.  
She’s not sure how he can be lonely. He’s easy to talk to. And if he’s easy for Katniss to talk to, then she can’t imagine what it’s like for someone with actual people skills to have a conversation with him. And besides, he always has a chair in the kitchen for her when she stops by. So maybe she does visit with him a little bit. He never really pushes her, when it comes to having conversations, but he doesn’t have to, exactly.  
Some days, when he asks how it was in the woods, she’s actually willing to tell him. And he’s always willing to talk about his day. About a cake order he was taking or a new recipe he tried.  
  
“But, you know,” he says, suddenly shy. “If you hate the mines as much as I would . . . I mean, clearly, we can carry on a conversation.”  
  
It takes a long moment for her to realize what he’s saying. And she surprises herself by, a month later, asking if she could take him up on the offer.  
  
He had agreed enthusiastically, as if what he said before about needing to trust the people he’d let in his bakery didn’t apply anymore. Or as if, maybe, he trusted her. Which seemed silly. They never really talk of anything of importance. Not even when the rumors of Gale and Madge being together multiply and especially not when she ends up with a ring on her finger. One that Katniss is certain that Madge’s father bought, and not Gale.  
They do spend a lot of time talking, though, in the bakery. And not just about what she’s doing right and what she’s doing wrong. She talks about her sister and he talks about his brothers. She talks about working in the mines and he tells her how hard that must have been, how much he admires her for sticking with it for so long when she so clearly hated it.  
  
And it’s nice. Even if she feels like everyone who comes in to buy loaves of white bread hates to see her at the counter with him. Peeta certainly doesn’t seem to mind. He tells her over and over again how happy he is for the help.  
  
  
And she can’t help herself but to wonder why she’s the girl he’s chosen to have help her at his bakery. Why he’s not married, or courting, or something. She wants to ask him about it, but she definitely can’t. She’s far too afraid of ruining, to quote him, whatever it is they have going here.  
  
But he’s speaking one day, and she’s not sure what he’s saying, exactly. Because she’s developed a terrible fixation on his lips. He’s actually in the middle of saying something when she takes another step towards him. She’s just slightly too close, and when he trails off, she feels guilty.  
  
She clearly shouldn’t. Because Peeta just closes the space between them and leans his head down, fitting his lips against hers. He smells like the bread that they’ve been making, and his hands are coated in flour. She can feel it coming off against her skin when he pulls her towards him, hands on her arms.  
  
She doesn’t mind, though. She’s sure that she’s getting him dirty, too, with her hands around his neck.  But then he’s laughing, and this is just so different from kissing Gale. Because Peeta’s lips are softer, and they move more slowly, and he seems so much happier.  
He doesn’t kiss her like he has something to prove.  
  
“I was . . .” she starts when she pulls away, but she’s not sure how to finish the sentence. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”  
  
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he assures her. His forehead is resting against hers, like he’s not exactly ready to step away yet. She doesn’t want the bread to burn, though, and one of them should be responsible, so she steps away and heads for the oven.  
  
He starts to talk, now. Shy and tripping over his words, he tells her about the first day of school. About how she wore two braids instead of one for the first day of school and about how he’s been a goner ever since she sang.  
  
As soon as the bread is safely on the counter, she kisses him again. They don’t get much more baking done that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got an epilogue, and then that's it! Thanks to everyone for the support/continued interest in this story. I hope the Everlark didn't disappoint.


	3. epilogue

She’s made the raisin nut bread with Peeta a couple of times already at the bakery. But there’s something different about it, this time. Something about the way his hands fit over hers, or something about the flour on their arms.   
  
His head rests in the crook of her neck. She half expects him to have something to say. But there are no words. None from either of them.   
  
They sign all the paperwork first, and she doesn’t expect Peeta to carry her over the threshold, since they’re going to be living above the bakery and it would mean that he would have to carry her up a flight of stairs.   
  
He does it anyway, once he’s positive that she has a good grip on the bread that they’ve made. Katniss buries her head in his chest, laughing at him. He doesn’t put her down. She thinks it’s her sister that starts to sing the toasting song, but she’s not sure. She’s just sure that Peeta is humming along, and that he should probably be watching where he’s going, but instead, he’s looking down at her. And she’s singing it, too, and she’s as amazed at ever with the way he _looks_ at her.   
  
“I love you,” he whispers. She thinks he might be close to tears. She definitely is. And on a normal day, she would probably feel stupid about it.   
  
  
She didn’t want a party. Partially because she felt endlessly guilty at the fact that Peeta’s mother wouldn’t be there but hers would. He insisted that he wanted her family there, though, and Rye and his wife surprised everyone by joining them at the Justice Building.

It doesn’t matter. As they build the fire, exchange little glances as man and wife for the first time, it may as well just be the two of them there.   
  
“I love you,” she says when he tears a chunk of bread off for her. He gives her a funny little choked laugh, and when she goes to feed him the bread, he kisses her hand.

  
  
  
The cake is predictably gorgeous. She tried so hard to convince him not to make himself crazy about it, but when he finally reveals it, it’s clear that he did. Perfect katniss flowers climb up the cake, and she feels bad about cutting into it.   
  
It’s carrot cake, of course. That much has been agreed on since before they even discussed toasting.   
  
“You didn’t have to do this,” she informs him, settling back against his chest.   
  
“You married a baker, Katniss,” he returns. “There’s a lot of cake in your future.”   



End file.
